


Unwanted Information

by jdmcool



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 22:17:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmcool/pseuds/jdmcool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock breaks into Lestrade's apartment in order to get the DI's help, but finds out something about the man he never wanted to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwanted Information

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this [prompt](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/19743.html?thread=118585631#t118585631) and the Sherlock Kink Meme.

He had the entire thing figured out and Sherlock had to admit that the criminal in question, a man that had cleverly concealed the murder of a rival as an accident, was more than a bit impressive. But, with everything solved, he’d be heading to prison before he’d have a chance to get that promotion he had murdered for. All Sherlock needed was Lestrade there to arrest the man after he proved his point.

Picking the lock to the front door, Sherlock noted that the DI’s home was a bit cleaner than usual, not counting the dishes left on the table. Heading to Lestrade’s bedroom, he knocked before simply walking in without a second thought.

“Lestrade, I need you to... Oh,” he said, taking in the detective.

Lestrade lay sprawled out on the bed, the very picture of debauchery. The faint sheen of sweat on his skin was made apparent every time his still panting chest rose and fall. A corner of the sheets just barely covered his more intimate areas while the rest of it was tangled up around his legs, clearly a last ditch effort to protect as much modesty as he relaxed body would allow.

Shocked, Sherlock couldn’t help but take in him and the clothes scattered around the room. Lestrade’s were still mostly scattered around the room while all that remained of the other person’s was a pair of shoes

“I... I figured out that Evanston did commit the murder. It wasn’t an accident. Since when do you sleep with men?”

“It may seem strange, but I don’t tell you everything about me.”

“You are now. You recently had sex. It very good, judging by how pleased you looked when I came in and moderately adventurous, something that had nothing to do with your partner’s gender. Given the fact that you’re blushing, I’d say it was... his idea. Enjoy them kinky?”

Trying to move from his position, Lestrade found himself halted by his wrist that was still tied to his head board with a red tie. Looking even more embarrassed, not that Sherlock would’ve thought it possible, Lestrade hurriedly tried to untie himself.

“You let him be on top. If it was your first time, you likely wouldn’t have which means you’re used to sex with men. I suppose this is what caused part of the trouble in your marriage?”

“Making deductions to a captive audience isn’t cute,” Lestrade growled, frustrated by Sherlock and the damn knot he couldn’t undo.

“He couldn’t have gone far given that his shoes are still here,” he pointed out, taking note of the expensive shoes he was certain he’d seen before. “But why would he hide? Couln’t be closeted because then I would pose no threat. Unless... Is it Anderson?”

“I’m not Donovan.”

“True. So why would he hide from me?”

“Because you are an annoying little brother and I was truly hoping you might leave instead of mocking Greg,” Mycroft said as he walked into the room from the bathroom, shirt undone and hair in disarray, much like Lestrade’s.

Staring in shock, Sherlock found himself speechless as his mind put the last pieces of the puzzle together. The fact that the other mysterious pair of shoes and that tie should looked familiar to him, given that they were Mycroft’s favourite. Watching his brother straddle Lestrade’s waist to help free him, Sherlock could only think of one response to the situation.

“You had sex with my brother?”

Mycroft rolled his eyes before kissing Lestrade’s wrist. “I’ll leave you and Sherlock to this lovely conversation. And I may be home late. Dinner with the Belgians.”

“You can’t leave me to handle this, Mycroft,” Lestrade argued, neither of them paying much attention to Sherlock and the look of disgust on his face. “He’s your brother.”

“I’m delegating and already late to this meeting. Good luck, love,” he said.

Kissing Lestrade briefly, thumb dragging along the side of Lestrade’s neck where a darkening bruise lay, he got up and went over to his shoes. Slipping them on, he began to button up his shirt as he walked over to Sherlock.

“Terribly sorry about this, Sherlock. I did so expect you to figure out that it was a murder sometime around noon. And I wasn’t hiding, I was getting ready for work, thank you,” Mycroft said before leaving him alone with a thoroughly embarrassed Lestrade.

“You’re sleeping with my brother,” Sherlock repeated, unable to move on from that.

“Can we have this conversation when I’m wearing pants?” Lestrade asked, clutching the sheets closer to him.

“You’re sleeping with Mycroft. He’s the reason you were...”

Oh and how Sherlock hated the idea that the man that had Lestrade tied up and in a state of pure orgasmic bliss was none other than Mycroft. Deleting the thought before his mind could conjure up a visual, he glared at the DI.

“Look,” Lestrade started, carefully manoeuvring to where he could grab his pants off the floor. Putting them on under his blanket, he stood and began to get dressed. “We were going to tell you. It’s just... hard to explain.”

“Hard to explain that you’ve been having sex with my brother?”

“Well, it’s not like we were going to draw you a diagram,” he pointed out, doing his best to fix his hair once he was dressed.

Sherlock scoffed. “I’d say what I saw came pretty close.”

“I didn’t invite you in! You barged in here on your own after... Did you pick the lock on my door?”

“I solved the case. Evanston did it.”

“So you picked the lock to my door. What if Mycroft and I had still been—“

At that they both stared at each other in shock. Neither of them wanted to think about how much worse it would’ve been if Sherlock had come over any sooner than he had. Sherlock was fairly certain that no amount of deleting would rid him of that image. It’d be like a virus.

“Evanston,” he said, not really sure of whatever else there was to say.

Lestrade only nodded in agreement as he grabbed his jacket. “Right. And... knock, in the future.”

Nodding in agreement, Sherlock made his way out, leaving Lestrade to follow along after him. He didn’t want to look at the man until he was good and ready to discuss the man’s perverse penchant for sleeping with Mycroft, of all people. Something that wasn’t going to happen until he solved the case, told John and took out such a horrifying idea on the corpse of someone in the name of science.


End file.
